


An Angel Wearing the Devil's Clothes

by sweet_ladyy



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bratting, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Edgeplay, F/M, Halloween, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Submission, degredation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_ladyy/pseuds/sweet_ladyy
Summary: It’s Halloween, and Gwilym isn’t expecting to see you wearing a new costume. He’s not gonna let you off easy. But you’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve.
Relationships: Gwilym Lee/Reader, Gwilym Lee/You
Kudos: 8





	An Angel Wearing the Devil's Clothes

  
Originally posted on Tumblr at <https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/>  
[](https://66.media.tumblr.com/9c1349d5bea05b0eb9a0c489215d1f94/8cd36fce11ae6e72-b4/s500x750/04e834048f822a788bc3d09212adb0d99fc7ae97.gifv)

[[grabbed this gif from a set posted by [@rogerscupboard](https://tmblr.co/m1cwt_fuWEk4jVI9Kue54oQ)!]]

[](https://66.media.tumblr.com/476bc4d893c4250d12e05504b05735d6/8cd36fce11ae6e72-43/s250x400/3d4b5497d681f2b04b25ac0582eeb5720cb6d90e.gifv)

It was Halloween, and tonight would be the night Gwilym Lee was seduced by the Devil herself.

You let your hips sway to the sound of the Halloween playlist playing through your phone speaker on the cabinet as you finished washing up the last of the dishes from dinner. And that was when you felt a warm body press against your back and a pair of greedy hands slide over your waist.

“You can’t possibly mean to go out like this.”

You’d tilted back and rested your head against Gwilym’s chest as his hands glided across your body, but at the curtness of his comment, you whirled to face him.

“What?” you asked him, your red-lipped pout betrayed by the playful glint of your smokey eyes.

And your fiancé’s eyes, filled with barely-restrained hunger, raked down your body. “You look… You look…”

“I look what?” you smirked. Gwilym seemed momentarily at a loss for words, and your smirk only grew as you followed the bobbing motion of his Adam’s apple. You were well-aware of the sort of punishment this behavior would elicit.

“Oh, come on, it’s just a bit of fun,” you tittered at him when he gave no reply. You stepped back and placed your hands on your hips. His eyes followed the movement. 

“What happened to our couple’s costume idea?” he asked.

“This seemed more fun,” you said dismissively, gesturing to your costume—a sexy devil costume that was really nothing more than glorified red lingerie.

You had to admit, Gwilym looked pretty fucking adorable in his Three Hole Punch Jim costume from _The Office._ You also had to admit you’d been excited to be his Black Cat Pam, but you were more excited for the look on his face when he saw you wearing _this._

Which apparently was driving Gwilym all types of mad.

Just as you’d planned.

“You look… _dangerous,”_ Gwilym finally finished his thought. You turned away to pat your hands dry on the kitchen towel, but you couldn’t hide your grin. 

“Dangerous? Does that mean you don’t like it?” you simpered with concerned eyes, adjusting your devil’s horn headband. You already knew the answer to _that._

“I didn’t say that,” Gwilym muttered as a means of evading your question. But his eyes were quickly growing dark, like low-hanging clouds in the sky.

“I guess I’ll just have to _go change clothes,_ then,” you purred, slowly stepping around Gwilym toward the bedroom. He didn’t hesitate a second to grab you gently by the arm, pulling you back.

“Don’t change clothes,” Gwilym grumbled, and the rasp of his voice reeled you in like a fish on a line. You turned back to face him, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“So we’re going to the costume party after all, then?”

“I think we’re going to be a bit late.”

Whatever spell you’d cast on him was instantaneously broken. Gwilym pulled your hips toward him so your body was flush against his. You made a surprised sound, but your next breath was quickly stolen away by Gwilym’s fervent mouth against yours. His warm hand braced the back of your neck while the other snaked lower down your back, down toward the hem of your ridiculously short leather skirt. A low growl vibrated across Gwilym’s chest as he gave your ass a squeeze, a motion that sent zings of warmth between your legs. 

“Gwilym,” you gasped the moment he broke away. His mouth was smeared with your lipstick. “I…”

But you couldn’t finish your thought. Gwilym’s fingers were inching down, down, down, tracing a line across the bottom curve of your ass. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it,” he said. When you nodded, he chuckled lowly. “Such a naughty girl.”

“I am the devil, after all,” you smirked at him. You barely registered as he guided you across the kitchen.

“If you’re the devil, take me to hell with you.” 

Your hip bumped against the side of the kitchen table. “You’d like it there,” you murmured. “Nice place. Gets quite hot in the summertime, though.”

The jokes were over, though. In one swift motion, Gwilym spun your body around so you were facing away. The next thing you knew, he bent you over at the waist, and your chest was pressed against the kitchen table, arms splayed out in front of you.

_Oh._

“We really are gonna be late, aren’t we,” you giggled, tilting your head to the side to face him. Gwilym stepped back for a brief second, his breath catching in his throat. What a sight you must have been…your backside shining up at him over the edge of the table, your skirt—already so damn short—riding up your hips, revealing the prize hidden beneath.

You arched your back, eager to show Gwilym all you had to offer—when the doorbell rang.

“Fuck,” Gwilym grumbled, checking the clock on the oven. “Trick or treaters, this early?”

“Better get that,” you teased, letting your gaze fall conspicuously to the tent in his trousers. “Wouldn’t want the neighbors to think we aren’t participating in the candy distribution this year.”

Gwilym gave you a venomous glare as he turned to grab a paper towel. He wiped the red smears from his mouth and re-adjusted his crotch as he went to answer the door. You smiled to yourself, satisfied.

By the time the trick or treaters came and went and Gwilym stalked back into the kitchen, you’d perched yourself upright on the kitchen table, your long legs crossed.

“We told Lucy we’d be there at 6:30,” you reminded him, your voice sing-songy. “Reckon we should get going. Don’t you think?”

Gwilym didn’t answer your question. “I didn’t say you could get up,” he said.

“You didn’t say I had to stay there, either.” You complemented his angry scowl with a wicked smile. All your teasing was working. The storm brewing in Gwilym’s eyes was growing more and more turbulent.

“Y/N,” he warned. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, and you weren’t about to give it to him so easily.

“I can think of a dozen better positions,” you purred and beckoned for him to come close. He stayed back, but the second you uncrossed your legs and spread them wide, some of the steely resolve in his eyes seemed to dissolve. You took advantage of his moment of weakness and reached for the black tie around his collar, pulling him to you, pulling him between your spread legs. He couldn’t resist.

“Let’s make this quick,” you continued, grasping his scruffy chin with your other hand. “We have a party to go to, after all.”

You brought his mouth to yours and kissed him, slowly and voluptuously, indulging yourself in the sweet taste of his lips. Your lips spoke one thing, but your intentions spoke another. If you played your cards just right, this ordeal wouldn’t be quick at all—it would be excruciatingly drawn out, which was precisely what you wanted. Reverse-psychology. It worked like a charm, every time. 

Sure enough, just as Gwilym was beginning to lose himself in your kiss, he stiffened and pulled away. You barely had a chance to register what he was doing before he grabbed your hands, pulled you off the table, flipped you around, and bent you over once more.

“Oh,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed your cheek into the table. The action was careful but firm, and you loved it. 

_“I’ll_ decide how I want to take you,” he snapped. The hand on your head moved to your hair, smoothing it back and away from your face. His other hand pressed heavily into your upper back, keeping your torso firm into the table. You could feel his pelvis against your ass, and upon assessing how hard he was through his trousers again, you bit your lip in anticipation. This was Gwilym’s favorite position. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t yours, too. But you weren’t about to admit that.

“What about the kids?” you asked. 

“Left the bowl outside.” Gwilym’s hands moved down the sides of your body. You felt him grind a little against your ass. You moved, too, appreciating the low _“fuck”_ that came from his mouth as you arched your back toward him.

“Someone’s going to steal all of the candy,” you said, still moving your hips.

“Don’t care.” Gwilym’s hands reached the hem of your skirt. “This is all you’re wearing underneath?” he asked as he pinched the thin fabric of your thong. You yelped as he let it snap back against your skin. Gwilym _tsk_ ed. “Can scarcely believe you wanted to show up at a party like this.”

“I can wear what I want to wear, thank you very much,” you grumbled half-heartedly. Gwilym’s touch became feather-light as he traced a line down the backs of your thighs. You realized he was moving to _kneel_ on the ground behind you.

_God._ You pressed your legs together, almost embarrassed by how wet you felt, how obviously it must be seeping through your thong.

Gwilym saw you squeeze your legs together and gently guided them back apart. “That you can, love,” he murmured, his words deliberate, calculating. “You can wear whatever you’d like.”

“Then what—” You cut yourself off, swearing. Gwilym’s finger was circling a spot on your thong, right at your entrance, where you knew the wetness has seeped through. There was no hiding your now, not with his face _right there._

“Going out with you looking like _this,”_ Gwilym continued, pressing his fingers against you more firmly now. “I wouldn’t be able to contain myself at that party. And you _knew_ it.”

“You seem like you can hardly contain yourself _now,”_ you mocked, a derisive edge to your tone. It seemed to fuel some furious energy within him. Gwilym growled again, pinching the insides of your thighs so hard you felt like your knees might buckle.

“You know I don’t like being provoked, love,” he scolded you. His face was so close to your body now that you could feel his hot breath fanning out over your thighs. “Better curb that attitude of yours. Or else I’m going to have to fuck it out of you.”

Which was precisely what you desired. You wanted him, and you wanted it rough. But you played the game anyway.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, finally showing your submissive side. The non-bratty submissive side. But Gwilym pinched you again, and you couldn’t contain the breathy moan that spilled from your lips.

“What was that?” he chided. 

“I’m sorry, _sir.”_

“That’s more like it.” He spanked you then, lightly, but the action was so unexpected that you yelped and arched your back. “Tell me, love, who’s in charge here?”

You tried to answer, but with the way he was caressing your thighs so lightly was bringing goosebumps all over your skin, and you couldn’t find the words.

“Y/N,” Gwilym murmured. He smacked your ass again, harder this time. Your body flushed with heat and desire. “Answer me. Who’s in charge? You or me?”

“You, sir,” you gasped. “You’re in charge.”

And he was—at least outwardly. But he was a fool for not realizing quite the extent to which you had him wrapped around your little finger.

“Good girl.”

You played the game the way he wanted, and you arched your back, eager for your reward. And Gwilym, who started kissing his way up the insides of your legs, seemed just as eager to give it to you. 

This was how it worked with Gwilym. You rile him up a bit, then you back down and submit just enough to give him what he wants, and then you rile him up again. Rinse and repeat. You wondered when, if ever, he’d catch onto the pattern.

But you’d worry about that later. Right now, Gwilym’s mouth was preoccupying your thoughts. 

Gradually, he kissed his way up, up, up. When he finally reached his destination—the summit between your thighs—he planted an open-mouthed kiss to that very same wet spot. You moaned at the onslaught of heat from his mouth. His beard, which he’d trimmed earlier today, scraped against the sensitive skin of your thighs and your ass. You couldn’t get enough. Nor could Gwilym, it seemed. He seemed impatient to taste you as his tongue probed the inner edges of your thong.

“So goddamn wet.”

He hooked two thumbs around the thin fabric, and as he slowly guided it down your legs, you felt the crotch cling to you. And then the cool air hit your bare, wet skin. You shifted uncomfortably, desperate to feel the heat of Gwilym’s mouth again. 

He left the thong wrapped around your ankles. “Remind me our safeword again,” Gwilym asked you.

You wanted to answer right away, but the tickle of a single finger circling right at your entrance replaced your words with a high-pitched moan. _He was feeling how wet you were._ “‘Stop,’” you recited in a gasp.

As instructed, Gwilym withdrew his finger.

“No, _don’t_ stop,” you corrected yourself. Gwilym chuckled. You and he decided right at the beginning of your relationship that the best safe word was the only one that truly only had one meaning: _stop._ God, you couldn’t imagine stopping now. The establishment of the safe word gave you both a sense of reassurance, however, that seemed only to perpetuate the passion between you two. But _stopping_ was the last thing you wanted right now.

“Just checking to see if you remembered.”

Gwilym buried his face between your legs. 

A moan bubbled out from your throat, followed by another, and another. You felt your knees threaten to give out again, but Gwilym’s arms, wrapped securely around your thighs, steadied you.

He felt _unreal._ The sounds his mouth was making against your pussy were obscene as he lapped at you, a feeling of silky smoothness and warmth coupled perfectly with the roughness of his beard. The thought of him burying his whole face in your ass, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his cock jumping to life in his trousers… _fuck,_ it was going to be the death of you.

And just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get any better, a sensation like no other sent jolts of electric desire across your body—his tongue _slipping inside you._

“Gwilym, fuck, I— _fuck,”_ you panted. Your hands raked across the wooden table, desperate for some kind of purchase, for something to grab onto. They found nothing. You were slowly but surely beginning your spiral toward an orgasm, a realization that nearly alarmed you—he’d only just started with you.

And you knew he didn’t like it when you came too quickly. 

Yet, he did not let up. He gently pulled your legs apart even further, and as his tongue slipped in and out of you, his deft fingers zeroed in on your clit.

“Don’t cum until I say so,” Gwilym instructed.

_Fuuuuuck._

He worked you into a gasping, moaning, dripping mess. You were gradually losing your grip on reality. Your climax was approaching sure and strong now. While your mind fought against it, knowing what would happen if you let go too soon, a veil of primal lust overshadowed every rational thought.

You had only one choice, and that was to sit here and take it and chase your high. 

And Gwilym knew it. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing to you; he was setting you up for failure. He _wanted_ you to come too early. He _wanted_ to punish you. 

“Gwil, please, I—I can’t, I’m— _Gwilym,”_ you cried in a dazed moan. This wasn’t _fair._ He really wasn’t letting up. His fingers moved faster and faster on your clit, giving you absolutely no way to come down. There was nothing to do to stop the approaching orgasm on the horizon.

“Hold off for me, love,” he encouraged. “You can do it. Don’t give in, not yet.”

_Edging._ He wanted to edge you. But you wouldn’t have any control this time. And you didn’t want him to stop.

“Gwil,” you keened. Reaching around behind you, your hands finally found something to hold onto—Gwilym’s head, keeping him in place against you. You cried out and buried your fingers in his hair, pressed his face into you.

And that was it. You were past the point of no return.

Gwilym’s fingers slowed as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. You felt your desire swell over you like a tsunami, and your whole body convulsed in response. Your moans peaked in volume and pitch as you thrashed against his touch. It was so good, _so fucking good,_ that you couldn’t think about what was happening, what you’d just done. 

You fell limp against the kitchen table. It was over.

You lied there gasping for breath. Time had stilled and restarted itself. Droplets of moisture—a mixture of Gwilym’s saliva and your own pleasure—rolled down your thighs.

Gwilym stood up and said nothing, but your mind was still too hazy to turn and face him. You heard him make a small, exasperated sound. But he was silent.

You took a shaky breath. “That wasn’t…” You gulped, your throat dry. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Stand up,” Gwilym said bluntly. You took your time to heave yourself up from the table and turning to face him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was a sight to behold…his hair mussed up, his cheeks flushed, the tight line of his mouth glistening with your wetness. Despite his facade of disappointment, you could tell by the way his pupils were blown wide that he was absolutely ravenous about what just happened.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said in a quivering voice. As if to discount your words, an aftershock came across you, and you jolted and sighed. Gwilym watched the brief shudder run through your body. He licked his lips.

“You know the rule about cumming,” he chastised.

“I—”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he continued. You saw his hands, which rested on his hips, twitch toward the center of his hips. “And only when I say so. I didn’t say you could come yet, Y/N.”

Normally, you’d make some kind of bratty comment that you were _well aware of his stupid rule_ , but the implication of his words made you shudder again. A punishment.

“I didn’t mean to, sir,” you said quickly as you squeezed your thighs together. “I just couldn’t…I couldn’t resist.”

“Couldn’t resist?” You didn’t miss the way Gwilym took a small step toward you. “Well. If you couldn’t resist cumming, love, that was your decision. But you know the rule. You leave me no choice.”

“I know,” you said, hanging your head, although your body buzzed like a live wire. Gwilym lifted your chin to his with a single finger. His eyes were bright beneath hooded eyelids.

“Such a filthy girl. My dirty little slut. Down on your knees,” he demanded. “Now.”

You resisted the urge to drop to your knees right away; instead, you took your time, playing the role of reluctance. Once you settled into a kneel, you blinked up at Gwilym with a doe-like gaze.

An angel wearing the devil’s clothes. At least, that’s what you were going for.

It worked. Gwilym’s face softened a bit, and he rubbed your cheek with his thumb. That same thumb came to your mouth, dragging across your bottom lip. Your lipstick was probably everywhere, but that’s exactly how he liked it. 

“I love you,” Gwilym mouthed. _A check-in,_ you knew. The slightest of role-breaking. But it was enough. You just bit your lip and smiled coyly in response.

And then his hands were fumbling with the belt on his trousers. You waited patiently as he unbuttoned and unzipped, and as he guided his trousers off his hips, you helped. Gwilym’s boxer briefs looked uncomfortably tight. He let you take the reigns with pulling those off, too.

His throbbing erection emerged and sprung out, hard as a metal rod. _God,_ after all this time, and you’ll still never get over his cock and the fact that it was _yours._ You squeezed your thighs at the familiar sight.

The doorbell rang. “Don’t answer it,” you told Gwilym.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Gwilym murmured as he pumped himself a bit. “You look too fuckin’ gorgeous down there.”

“You want me, baby?” you asked him. 

“Always,” he answered. You licked your lips in anticipation. “C’mere.” He beckoned you, and you crawled closer to his legs, eyes glued on his manhood. Desperate to help him out, you brought your hands up to his, but he swatted them away. “Hands by your sides.”

You did as you were told.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “There’s my good girl.”

You smiled. It really was that easy.

Gwilym kept jerking himself off with one hand and brought his other to the back of your head. You sat up straighter and parted your lips. “Open up wider, baby. Show me your tongue.” You did, and Gwilym cursed again. You inched your head closer to his cock, breathing through your mouth so he could feel how warm you were. 

“Doing such a good job listening to me,” he said. “Almost makes me feel bad about having to punish you.”

“Please punish me, sir,” you pleaded. “I deserve it.”

“You want this cock, love? You want me?” When you nodded, he said, “Need to hear you sat it, Y/N.”

“Yes, please, I want you. So bad.”

“Good.” He started moving his hips toward you, tilting the tip of his cock toward your open mouth. “I’ll give it to you, baby.”

You kept your eyes locked on Gwilym’s as he slowly, _slowly_ slid his member between your lips.

A guttural sound came from the back of his throat. As you took more and more of him, inch by inch, his eyelids fluttered and his throat bobbed.

“Shit,” he groaned. The hand around the back of your head stiffened into a fist around your hair. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m— _fuck.”_

You closed your eyes, tasting him. Salty, but clean. Undeniably _Gwilym_. You loved this. You _loved_ getting punished. Maybe he’d catch on one day that this was why you acted out so often. It wasn’t much of a punishment when you loved it this much.

Gwilym was so deep now that he filled your whole mouth. You wrapped your lips around his shaft, and sucked, gently, just a little. But at the sight of your puckered red lips and hollowed cheeks, Gwilym let his head fall back with a loud moan.

The hand on your head guided you, but it wasn’t like you really needed it. You knew exactly what to do. You pulled away slowly, letting the bottom of his head drag along your tongue, and then pushed it right back into your mouth. Again, and again, and again. With each thrust, you let him hit the very edge of your throat, right at the soft palette. And it was driving Gwilym insane. 

“Fuckin’ take that cock, baby,” he groaned. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. _God,_ you feel so fucking good.”

Grasping the base of his dick, you pumped him with your hand while your head moved. Gwilym’s hand fell from the back of your head, and by the dazed look on his face, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. Literally.

Just when you and we were getting into a groove, you pulled all the way off of him with an obscene slurping sound, a string of saliva and precum stuck on your tongue. He was so swollen he was almost purple, and the lipstick marks all over his shaft was a delightful sight. You gave your mouth a rest and worked him with your hands, spreading the slickness all over his shaft before jerking him off. Responsive as always, Gwilym let a stream of groans and praises fall from his parted lips. 

You wondered if he could tell how much you love this, this _punishment._ Your enthusiasm couldn’t be mistaken, surely. He looked like he needed some love elsewhere, so you dipped your head and kissed his balls. He yelped a little in surprise as you sucked them ever so gently, and then licked a long stripe up from the base of his shaft to the very tip of his head. 

There, you tasted the fresh droplets of precum that had accumulated there from your ministrations. Gwilym breathed in a shaky gasp as you flicked your tongue along the most sensitive place on the underside of his head. 

“Jesus Christ,” he swore.

There was another knock at the door.

You gave him a wry look, wrapping your lips around just the tip, and to your surprise, he seemed not to have even noticed the door. Which was good. There was no way you were stopping things now. You _knew_ you were skilled at this, and you knew you were working him to his limit, which is why you didn’t have much time. Pretty soon, he’d be pushing you off of him to hold himself off from cumming too soon. What he didn’t know is that you _wanted_ his cum in your mouth, all over your lips, dripping down your throat.

And you had the perfect trick up your sleeve to get what you wanted.

Sure enough, as soon as you started bobbing on his cock again, Gwilym squeezed your shoulder. “Slow down, darling,” he said, his jaw clenched. 

_Not a chance._ You smirked around his cock and didn’t slow down one bit. He seemed to lose the words to ask you again to slow down. You moved with new vigor and brought your hand to the base of his shaft, moving it along with your mouth.

“Y/N,” Gwilym moaned—a panicked warning. His hand squeezed your shoulder again.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked as you bobbed on him, just the way he liked it, just the way you knew would make him start falling apart. It was working. Gwilym’s back arched and his breaths grew shallow and strained. Between your lips, you could feel him swell.

“Y/N, please,” he gasped, and you raised an eyebrow at the pretty word from his lips. _Please._ His hand, squeezing your shoulder, pushed you away gently, but the movement was weak. Indecisive. _He didn’t_ ** _want_** _to push you away_.

It was time you pulled that perfect trick out from your sleeve. Relaxing your throat just the way you’d practiced, you brought your hands to Gwilym’s ass and pulled his hips toward you— _all the way._ His cock hit the soft, warm place at the back of your throat. You breathed in and out with steady, calm breaths through your nose. 

“I…I can’t…Y/N, you— _fuuuuuuck!_ ”

You took all of him, every inch. His cock slid down the back of your throat.

Through your watery eyes, you looked up at Gwilym and saw the disoriented astonishment on his face. And oh, how you wished you could capture the disoriented astonishment on his face in your memory forever. He looked as if he’d never experienced anything like this, _ever_. 

Nor had you. It was a novel feeling to take him so deeply like this. Your throat burned slightly as his girth stretched it out, but you’d been expecting it. You’d preparing for this. No amount of preparation could have done any justice to the primal emotions it unlocked to be pleasuring him so intimately. You _liked_ the way it felt, Gwilym filling your throat like this, spit dribbling down your chin—not to mention his reaction.

Relaxing your throat as much as possible, your lips hit the base of Gwilym’s shaft, the tip of your nose poking his pelvis. Gwilym gasped out, a choked sound. His eyes darted about, but then you _hummed_ against his cock, and any deliberation he’d had was gone. His hips jolted at the vibration from your throat, and you gagged a bit around him, but you didn’t care. A stream of curses came from his mouth as your throat vibrated while he was still deep inside you.

You swallowed around him, the muscles of your throat contracting. You knew he could feel _everything._

“Y/N,” he nearly sobbed your name out. His voice was so _weak,_ almost broken. You’d broken him. “I… Please don’t stop… I’m gonna…I’m…”

You didn’t stop. 

Gwilym’s whole body went rigid and his hips stuttered. You held him steady as his cock pulsed, and with one loud moan, Gwilym couldn’t stop himself. He went over the edge. You braced yourself. His knees nearly giving out, Gwilym arched into you and released the tension in his body. You felt his whole cock surge and pulse as he cummed down your throat in thick, hot spurts.

You swallowed everything.

As you slowly slid yourself off his cock, gasping for breath, spit covering your mouth, Gwilym nearly lost his balance. He leaned against the edge of the table, still panting, still unable to say anything. You wiped your mouth in satisfaction.

Seconds passed. Neither of you said a word until you caught your breath and Gwilym caught his grip on reality. 

“What?” you finally asked, and you couldn’t keep the smug undertone from your voice. Gwilym’s gaze, which had drifted to the corner of the room, suddenly snapped to meet yours from where you crouched on the floor in front of him. 

“I—” he stammered, but he couldn’t finish. He looked away. He was suddenly like a completely different person, embarrassed and shy and blushing and still completely stupefied. His cheeks were still flushed with desire. He hadn’t bothered to pull his trousers back up, and frankly, he was still rock hard. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you cooed as you got to your feet. You made a show of pulling up your thong, smoothing down your skirt, and fixing your little red horns. 

“You… When did you learn to do that?” he whispered, bewildered, unable to meet your gaze again. 

You smirked. “What do you mean?” you asked innocently. 

“With… With your _throat,”_ he clarified, almost angrily. 

You tittered. “Oh, that? Just a little something I’ve been practicing.” You cocked your head devilishly. “Didn’t you like it, Gwil, baby?”

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t… I mean, I… I _did_ , it’s-it’s just, that wasn’t…”

“…Supposed to happen?” you completed his sentence, your voice taunting, jesting. The same words you’d told him. “Aw, honey. You’re too sweet.”

Gwilym finally looked at you again. He was finally regaining his focus, and suddenly, a glimmer of frustrated humiliation shined in his eyes. It was as if you could watch the exact moment he realized what had happened. He realized that you’d been planning it to go your way all along. 

“Y/N,” he said, but whatever threat he’d tried to muster up in his voice was empty. 

Before you could reply, your phone buzzed on the kitchen island. You didn’t hesitate to retrieve it. 

“Hello?” you answered, sauntering back over to Gwilym. “Oh, Lucy! Hi!” 

His eyes trailed on you as you talked on the phone.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry, we’re just running a bit behind. We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

You let your eyes fall to Gwilym’s lap. He blushed a deeper shade of red, realizing, and pulled up his boxer briefs and trousers.

“Yes, we’ll be wearing our costumes. See you soon, Luce. Okay, bye.”

You hung up. Gwilym said nothing. 

“Alright, then,” you said cheerily and patted his thigh endearingly, almost demeaningly. “Let’s get to it. We’re already late.”

You turned to stroll away toward the bedroom, but Gwilym grabbed for your arm. He glowered at you but didn’t say anything. 

“Are you going to let me go anytime soon?” you said lightly after a long moment. “I need to go clean up, unless you want me showing up looking like I just deepthroated your cock.”

He jolted in surprise at your words. A few seconds later, he let you go. “You’re going to pay for this later,” he said, but it was more of a stammer than a warning. 

You smiled through your eyelashes, rubbing at your bottom lip absentmindedly. And then you turned away from Gwilym, letting your hips sway as you ambled in the direction of the bedroom. Little did he know that “paying for it later” was part of your plan all along, too.

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/476bc4d893c4250d12e05504b05735d6/8cd36fce11ae6e72-43/s250x400/3d4b5497d681f2b04b25ac0582eeb5720cb6d90e.gifv)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It is thanks to the terrific support of you, my readers, who interact my fanfics with your honest thoughts and genuine reviews, that I am inspired to continue writing. Without these comments, I lose motivation. I write fanfiction for free (although I accept donations at https://ko-fi.com/sweetladyy if you feel so inclined to provide); my only request for payment is a genuine expression of your thoughts ◡̈ So if you decide to write a full-out review, or add your reactions // emotions, or even if it’s just a “wow!” or just a keyboard smash, know that any and all feedback is welcomed with unfettered gratitude and with Blake squealing in excitement behind her computer screen. Thank you in advance! ♡ –Blake


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